Cards Are Sharp (Don't Gamble With the Devil)
by Balin Lord of Moria
Summary: Sonny Bonds and Keith Robinson of the Lytton PD are transferred to Police Squad in Los Angeles, and the straight-faced antics of Frank Drebin and his Squad confuse them to no end as they investigate a case involving illegal gambling. The whole Police Squad gang is here.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Police Squad!_ or _Police Quest_; Paramount Television owns _Police Squad!_, and Sierra On-Line owns _Police Quest_.

* * *

**_Prologue_**

* * *

It's 5:00 PM in Lytton, CA, and Homicide Detectives Sonny Bonds and Keith Robinson were standing before their boss in their unit, Captain Fletcher Hall, as he sat at his desk. Even when sitting behind his desk, Captain Hall could be quite an intimidating figure. He had just finished explaining to them that they were receiving a temporary transfer to the Los Angeles Police Department.

"You're going to serve in a special division of the police department known as 'Police Squad,'" Hall explained.

"'Police Squad,'" said Sonny, as if trying on the name for size, "It sounds like a very generalized title. What sort of work does Police Squad do when fighting crime? Homicide, like us? Narcotics? Burglary? Vice?"

"Are they some sort of undercover unit?" Keith inquired.

Hall said, "Actually, from what I understand, they follow cases involving all of those crimes. They're usually assigned some of the simpler cases, though their cases are no less dangerous than those here in Lytton, or anywhere else. The Police Squad's leader is Captain Ed Hocken, and his best officer is Lieutenant Frank Drebin, a twenty-year veteran of the police force, very straight-faced and very business-like in his interrogations and actions. He also has a strange sense of humor, so I think you'll probably get along well with him."

Sonny and Keith glanced at each other. "Sounds like our kind of man to me, sir," Sonny agreed. "I accept the transfer. I'm sure we'll get along splendidly."

"Same here, Captain," said Keith, "But are we still going to be partners while we're there, or will we each be paired with a Police Squad officer?"

"Don't worry, boys," said Hall, "You'll still be partners. But obviously, you'll work with Captain Hocken, Lieutenant Drebin, and other officers on the Squad while you're there."

"When do we leave?" asked Sonny.

"In three days," said the Captain, "It's up to you, Bonds, whether you want to bring your wife, Marie, along or not."

"I think she'll probably want to come along," said Sonny. "She feels more at ease, and happier, when she's with me."

"It's settled then," said Hall. "In three days, the three of you are going to Police Squad in Los Angeles."

"Thank you, sir," they said.

* * *

_"My name is Sergeant Frank Drebin, Detective Lieutenant Police Squad, a special division of the police department. Some uniformed officers and I were investigating an incident at a farm just outside the city where hundreds of hens and roosters had been senselessly butchered by a prowler with a machete and a hockey mask. We wondered how the suspect could have cut up the chickens with that mask. After bringing him into town to be booked into jail, I heard from Officer Norberg, my part-time partner, that my boss, the captain, had some news for me that he wanted to tell me in person rather than over the police radio. After the suspect was booked, I stopped off for a grilled chicken sandwich and some French fries, and headed to the station. Ed was waiting for me there."_

Frank stepped into the comfortingly familiar Police Squad office and greeted his boss and old friend, Ed. "Hi, Ed," he greeted him.

"Hi, Frank," Ed said to Frank. "The news I have for you isn't bad news, so if you were worried, you don't have to be."

"Believe me, Ed," replied Frank, "The sleaze we've been putting behind bars couldn't worry me after so many encounters with crime over the last two decades."

"Yes, Frank," said Ed, "But this news isn't criminal-related at all. An arrangement has been made between myself and a police captain in Lytton, CA, named Fletcher Hall. His two best Homicide Detectives, Officers Sonny Bonds and Keith Robinson, are temporarily transferring to Police Squad, to help us fight the crime here in Los Angeles. Coffee, Frank?"

"Sure, Ed," said Frank, as they each took a cup of Jo. "How much experience do these two officers have in the police force?"

"Well, they're both younger than us by some fifteen to twenty years or so," said Ed, "but Officer Bonds, in particular, is renowned in his home town for bringing to justice a deadly drug runner and illegal gambler named Jessie Bains, nicknamed the Death Angel. And with Robinson's help, he stopped Bains' revenge spree when he escaped from jail, though he was forced to kill Bains in order to do so. A donut, Frank?" He offered a glazed donut to Frank.

"Yes, please," said Frank, "Though today, I think I'd prefer a chocolate donut."

"Fine with me, Frank. I myself am in the mood for a powdered sugar donut," said Ed, and they each took said donuts. "As an added bonus, because of his heroics in bringing the Death Angel down, Bonds was given the 'Officer of the Year' award by Lytton's Chief of Police, Morton Whipplestick." He and Frank each collected a lunch tray and walked down a cafeteria line, taking some jello and plates with sandwiches and chips on them to eat.

"I don't think I'll be eating too heavily right now," said Frank, "I already had a grilled chicken sandwich before coming here. Really hit the spot."

"Suits me fine, Frank," said Ed. Then they took their food and coffee to Frank's desk and sat down to eat.

"Anything else you can tell me about our two new detectives, Ed?" asked Frank.

"Well, both men are happily married, for one thing," said Ed, "and while Mrs. Robinson elected to stay in Lytton, Mrs. Marie Bonds is joining her cop husband in Los Angeles. She loves to be with Sonny whenever she can."

"Is she an ordinary woman, or does she have a criminal record?" Frank asked.

"A few years ago, she was a prostitute on the streets," Ed replied, "But being an old high school sweetheart of Sonny's, their passion for each other gave Marie the strength of will to atone for her crimes and become a reformed woman, though not without some months of therapy."

"Well, it's good to hear that some of the hookers on those sewage-infested streets have the guts to pull themselves out of their pits of filth and become upstanding citizens without fear of toxic effects on the pure citizens," said Frank.

"For crying out loud, Frank, I'm on the phone with my sister!" protested another detective. Frank and Ed didn't seem to notice.

"When are these two good cops due to arrive here, Ed?" Frank asked his boss.

"In three days, Frank, on Monday, I think," Ed said. "Just think, after this weekend, we're going to have some younger officers on the force with us."

"Yeah," said Frank, "You and I are still pretty good with physical stuff even in our middle age, but with more young cops like Norberg, we'll really have the crooks of this town on their toenails."

They finished eating their meal in relative silence.


	2. The Crime

_**The Crime**_

* * *

It was a quiet night at the club called Alphonse's Art. This joint was a popular club, where people came to enjoy floozy shows, drink in a cocktail lounge, and spend the night in the upstairs hotel rooms, some of which were actually apartments for the people who worked there. What many people who attended the club didn't know, however, was that, in a back room, connected to the cocktail lounge, several men were playing an illegal poker game. It was illegal because it was not just a friendly game. It was an illegal business. And the owner of the club, Alphonse Capriccio himself, was playing against two of his trusted subordinates, Vinnie Ricotta and Angelo Sasso, and a young man named Dario Tomasso, who was a bit down on his luck right now.

"I'll call," each player said in turn, except Vinnie, who had folded, and they showed their hands. Alphonse had a full house. Angelo had a straight. Dario had a low pair of nines.

"Looks like you lose some of your cash again, Dario," said Vinnie sarcastically.

"Really, Dario," said Alphonse in exasperation. "Why do you keep betting on such stupidly low hands?"

"I was only trying to bluff you guys," said Dario uncertainly, "I thought that's what poker is all about."

Angelo crunched a walnut in his hand. "Dario, you don't know a thing about poker."

"Take it easy, Angelo," said Alphonse, "Let's give him one more chance. In this next hand, the stakes are all or nothing for each of us. The player with the worst hand gets to pay the others in full."

Dario swallowed. The cards were shuffled and dealt again. Everybody anted in. They each betted on their respective hands, throwing in more chips and cash. Then they started to toss in Monopoly money, dashboard dice, gold bars, and a dozen other things of unique value. After holding and taking cards, they each betted once more. Alphonse, Vinnie, and Angelo never removed their poker faces. Dario started to sweat. Angelo noticed this, and looked at him suspiciously.

Finally, they all showed their hands. Alphonse had four of a kind, threes. Vinnie had a straight flush. Angelo had three of a kind, fives. Dario was stuck with two pair, aces and eights, and a poker rules card as his odd card.

Alphonse and his friends stared at unlucky Dario. "Well, Dario," said Alphonse, "it looks like you're just not a gambler, although I find it interesting that you got aces and eights as your two pair."

"He's also lousy at holding poker faces," said Angelo. "I wasn't fooled by his hand for a moment, and I had the second lowest hand, too."

"Please, guys," said Dario, his hands out and forward, "I can't afford to pay you all of the money just yet. I can give you some, but I need time to get the rest."

Alphonse looked at him critically. "You know that's not the way we play it in my business, son," he said in a quiet, but menacing, voice. "You have to pay everything now, _or else_. But seeing as you're new to this game, I think I can stretch your payday by a little bit. Right, Angelo?"

Angelo crunched a pair of dice. "Yeah, I agree with the boss. Let's give him a little bit more time."

"I agree," said Vinnie.

"As a matter of fact," said Alphonse, "you look like you could use a ride home, Dario. You've been drinking a bit, and drinking and driving don't go well together, do they?"

Dario blinked. "No, boss, they don't."

"That's right," said Alphonse. "Angelo, give the kid a ride home. Make sure he… doesn't go over with his drinking habit."

Angelo winked, an action that Dario missed. "Sure thing, Alphonse," he said, and he led Dario, who had just grabbed his jacket, to Dario's car.

"Oh, Dario," said Angelo, "I'm going to have to borrow the keys, and the car, since you can't drive right now. Don't worry, Alphonse and I will let you have them back the next time you return."

"Of course," said Dario, handing over the keys, "Thank you, Angelo."

* * *

During that late hour, the streets were mostly empty of cars, especially in the parts of the city away from downtown. Angelo drove nice and smoothly, while Dario half-dozed in the passenger seat. They drove down into a valley where there was a large bridge leading across a deep river.

Suddenly, Dario became half-aware that Angelo had stopped the car. He tried to sit up, and asked, "Are we there already?"

Then he felt the car moving forward slowly, but the motor wasn't on. It was as if…

Dario sat up and looked behind him. Angelo was pushing the car from behind. He looked forward again, and saw the approaching ravine that led into the water.

"Wait!" he shouted, "Angelo! What are you doing? Why?"

Angelo stopped pushing for a moment and came to the driver's window, which he had left down. "The boss said he'd stretch your payday by a little bit, right?" Dario nodded. "Well, it's been a little bit by now. See you on the other side, Dario." He gave the unfortunate Dario a mock salute and returned to the rear of the car to push it again.

"No, Angelo, please!" begged Dario, "I swear, I'll pay Alphonse back! I said I needed more time!"

"Boss Alphonse Capriccio doesn't have that kind of time, buck-o," said Angelo. "Gambling, especially when done against the law, is a rough business, and addictive, too. You should have thought of that before you decided to play poker with us." He pushed the car the rest of the way to the ravine.

"NO!" shouted Dario, but it was too late to escape. The car was pummeling down towards the edge of the ravine. He tried to take control of the wheel, but it ripped off the front of the car in his hands. Gaping in disbelief, he jumped in his seat, trying to get out the top, but forgot that this car didn't have a sunroof, and hit his head on the roof. He cried out in pain.

Then, as the car came to the very edge and broke through the guard rail, parts of the torn rail shredded the paint job on the sides of the car. "Oh, no, not the paint job!" he yelled.

The car fell down and hit the ground, killing a poor stray, ragged cat in the process. "No, the poor thing!" Dario cried. Then it tumbled into the water, and some seaweed that had somehow drifted from the sea into the river entered his mouth. He started to choke.

Finally, as he brushed the weed away, he was met with the sight of a Bull Shark ambushing him. It bit at his legs. He screamed a muffled scream, muffled by the dirty water. The car sunk to the bottom of the water, and the shark proceeded to eat Dario's legs, lower torso, and liver.

Angelo watched all this from a safe distance, and when he was satisfied that Dario was dead, he waited about two minutes until another car pulled up, driven by Vinnie. Angelo got inside, and they quickly drove off, even as an anonymous witness from about a block or so away called 911 to have someone see what had happened.


	3. The Case

**_The Case_**

* * *

On Monday morning, the day after the crime, Lytton Police Officers Sonny Bonds and Keith Robinson arrived at the Police Squad office. They stared at the sign on the door's window that seemed to say, "POLICE DAUQS."

"Why do you think this office door has one of the words in its name on backwards?" Keith asked Sonny.

"Beats me, Keith," said Sonny. "Maybe it's part of these detectives' sense of humor, although I'd think that they wouldn't get away with it in a place where people who serve the law work. The police are no joke where we come from."

"You're sure right about that, Sonny," said Keith.

They knocked. A man's voice said, "Come on in. The door's open." They stepped inside.

The Police Squad office looked not too dissimilar to the detective's offices at the Lytton Police Station. Desks, file cabinets, telephones, and cops, both uniformed and plainclothes, doing their paperwork. Two men who looked to be in their late middle age turned on their entry and greeted them.

"Are you boys Sonny Bonds and Keith Robinson?" the fatter one asked.

"That's us, yes," said Sonny. "I'm Sonny, and this is Keith."

"Well, it's good to meet you," the man said with a smile. He offered his hand for shaking. "I'm Captain Ed Hocken of Police Squad, and this is my best detective on the squad, Lieutenant Frank Drebin." He gestured to the other man, who had white hair and a surprisingly smooth face.

"Hello, Captain, Lieutenant," said Sonny.

"The feeling is mutual," said Frank as they shook hands.

Sonny blinked. "Uh, nice to meet you, too."

"Yeah, the feeling is mutual here, too," said Keith.

"Very good, Keith," Frank said. It almost sounded like a compliment.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Keith asked the captain.

"Not at all," said Ed amiably, "Smoking's permitted in here, even though few of the officers normally do so."

"Thanks," said Keith, and he lit up a cigarette.

"You know, you're just in time for this week's first case," said Ed, "We've just received a call from the morgue concerning an apparent suicide, when a car drove off a bridge and into a river."

"Hmm," said Sonny, "Sounds like we already have a case on our hands, partner."

"Sure looks like it," said Keith.

"Hey, I like talking about this and that, too," said Frank, "but I think we'd better get down to the morgue and check this out for ourselves while the case is still fresh."

"We couldn't agree more, Lieutenant," said Sonny.

"Same here," said Keith.

"Then let's go see a dead body," said Ed.

* * *

Down at the morgue, Sonny and Keith took a look around at the covered bodies. Sonny couldn't help remembering some of the dead bodies he had encountered on his old cases in Lytton, but there were some strange things about these bodies. He could have sworn that that one body over there seemed to have two left feet. Another one looked like it had two right feet. A third had two right feet and a left foot. A fourth had several DOA tags on its toes that said things like, "Went to market," "Stayed home," and "Wee, wee, wee all the way home." There was even a messy pile of bodies stacked on top of each other rather badly.

Keith said to him, "I feel like I'm in a Disneyland version of a morgue."

Sonny nodded. "It does feel, interesting, here in Los Angeles," he said.

They walked over to where Frank and Ed were grimacing at the inside of one of the body drawers.

"Ugh," said Frank. "That's disgusting."

"Yeah, I can't bear to look at something like that," said Ed.

Sonny and Keith cautiously looked in the drawer. There was only a picture of Richard Nixon in the drawer, and he looked healthy and happy. They looked at each other. They suddenly became aware that Ed was restraining the urge to vomit. Sonny squinted in disbelief.

"It's like I always say these days," said Frank, "The Democratic Party is ancient history."

Keith fought an urge to say something about that. He was a Republican.

At last, the coroner came over. "Lieutenant Drebin, Captain Hocken," he said, then he noticed Sonny and Keith. "These guys in your Police Squad too?"

"Yes, new transfers," said Ed, "Officer Bonds and Officer Robinson."

The coroner closed the drawer with the picture of Nixon. "This was quite a startling discovery, officers," he said, "This man drove over a guard rail and into a deep river. And it looks as though a shark that can swim in fresh water ate part of his body, the lower part."

He opened another drawer and showed off the body of Dario Tomasso. Indeed, his legs were mostly gone, and his lower torso had some bite marks. He was still clinging to the car's steering wheel.

"Sounds pretty rough to me," said Frank.

"Yes," said the coroner, "But there's more to it than that. This young man was discovered to be moderately inebriated when we examined his body. At first, I thought that he was just drinking and driving and got in a bad accident. But a witness who called 911 about this incident says that she thought she saw a man watching the car fall in the river, and that ten minutes later, another car came and picked him up, and they drove away with speed."

Keith almost (but not quite) didn't hear this. He was distracted by a couple of men who worked in the morgue trying to stuff a large body into one of the drawers, which almost fit in, but then popped back out and knocked the men off their feet and on the floor. Frank, Ed, and the coroner took no notice.

"What's the victim's name?" asked Ed.

"Dario Tomasso," said the coroner, "a twenty-five year old man."

"Anything else unusual about this accident?" asked Frank.

"Well, in fact, yes. Another possibility I thought of as the cause for this was suicide, until the witness gave us said information, but when we looked through Tomasso's clothes, we found a wad of money in his pants pocket and a deck of playing cards in his jacket pocket. We weren't sure whether or not this counts as evidence for a case, but in case it does, we thought the police should know about it."

"May we have this evidence?" asked Ed. "Crime evidence always has to be taken to the police station for investigation."

"Of course," said the coroner, "It's right here." He produced the cards and the money to the detectives.

"Thank you," said Ed, "We'll be on our way now."

As they all left, Sonny and Keith noticed that the coroner started to speak about the fatal injuries of another body on a microphone, and then proceeded to predict a pleasant weather forecast and turned on a record player for a radio station, playing the album, _Blam!_. Keith shook his head. Sonny shrugged.

* * *

"Do we know any details about this Dario Tomasso?" asked Sonny as they waited for an elevator.

"Well, he was an Italian pizzeria chef when he got his first job at age seventeen," said Ed, "Apparently, he wasn't content to be a humble chef, and looked for 'easier' ways to get money. He used to play some illegal card games, like Blackjack and Poker, for a living. Got him in trouble with the law a few times. He had difficulty winning big, though, so he moved into playing Baccarat because it was simpler, and because he liked dressing up for the occasion."

The elevator arrived. They got inside. An Intelligence officer was in there with them.

"What has Dario been up to lately?" inquired Frank.

"He's normally laid low," said Ed, "But recently, he started to attend a lounge club called 'Alphonse's Art,' which we believe to be a front for high-stakes card games."

"Hey, that reminds me of the case of the Death Angel I was on years ago," said Sonny, "That monster Bains played Poker and Blackjack with other shady men there to support his crime business. Two card sharps named Otto Lipschitz and Gene Bamboni played with him on a routine basis, and a bartender named Woody Roberts was the contact man for the gambling."

"Sounds like that was a pretty dangerous case," said Frank.

"It sure was," said Sonny. The elevator doors opened. The Intelligence officer walked out into a ballroom, and a lovely dancer walked into the elevator with her partner. Sonny and Keith were surprised again, especially since Frank and Ed continued to talk as if that wasn't happening.

"Uh, what sort of place is 'Alphonse's Art?'" Keith asked, trying not to stutter.

"It's a combination nightclub and cocktail lounge," said Ed, "And we believe that it has a back room somewhere where, if my suspicions are true, they might be playing illegal gambling games. It's owned and run by a classy Italian man named Alphonse Capriccio who grew up in Chicago under the Mafia."

The elevator doors opened again. The dancing couple walked out onto a stage with a cheering crowd. Flowers were being thrown. A few of them brushed against Frank's face. He didn't even blink. Keith almost snickered.

"What's so funny, Keith?" Ed asked.

Keith looked at him pointedly, but then said, "Um, nothing. Sorry I interrupted."

"That's all right," said Ed, "We all make mistakes."

"What makes you think this case is linked to Alphonse's Art, Ed?" Frank asked.

"Well, besides the fact that Dario frequented that club until his death," said Ed, "the backs of these playing cards the coroner gave us have the colors and the name of Alphonse's Art. I don't know of any other place he could have gotten them, unless they're stolen."

"Well, it's certainly as good a place as any to start," said Frank. "I think we should investigate this joint somehow, and since Sonny here has experience with going undercover in a gambling operation, I believe he should have a part in helping us out."

"Officer Sonny Bonds, at your service," said Sonny, saluting them.

"I'd like to help, too," said Keith.

"Don't worry, Keith," said Frank, "I'm sure Ed and I can find a good position for you in this case, too."

"Good to hear," said Keith.

They reached their floor. Sonny and Keith braced themselves for whatever surprise was waiting for them this time, but even more surprisingly, there was none. Frank and Ed exited the elevator and onto the garage floor. Sonny and Keith shrugged at each other again, and followed them.


	4. The Interrogation

_**The Interrogation**_

* * *

"_Our first step in learning as much as we could about this suspected murder of Dario Tomasso was to question the one witness to his death. She was a thirty year old woman named Naomi Johnson, and she lived just a block away from the bridge and ravine where Dario had died. My partner, Officer Norberg, drove over to her office and brought her to the station for some questioning."_ – Frank Drebin

Norberg had just brought Naomi into the Police Squad office for a short talking-to. Ed offered her a seat at one of the empty desks. Soon, Frank, Sonny, and Keith arrived to ask the questions.

"Is the witness here yet, Ed?" asked Sonny.

"Right over there," said Ed. "Oh, by the way, be a little careful with her. She looks pretty bad."

"Don't worry, Ed," said Frank, "We'll handle it." He walked over to a woman sitting at a desk. She looked like an ugly hybrid between a woman and an ape dressed up like a tramp. "Excuse me miss," said Frank, "I'd like to ask you a few questions-"

"Uh, Frank, not that bad," interrupted Ed, "She's at your desk, over there." Frank looked over and noticed his mistake, apologizing to the ape-woman. She nodded and got up and walked away. Sonny looked at her funny. Keith almost forgot to blow out his cigarette smoke and coughed a little.

"You okay, Keith?" asked Frank.

"Uh, yes, Frank," said Keith, clearing his throat.

"Maybe you should let up on the smoking just a little," Ed suggested.

"Going through this might make me quit for good," cracked Keith. Frank looked puzzled. Sonny shrugged yet again.

They walked over to where Naomi sat at Frank's desk, looking a little disturbed, as if she had witnessed something quite ghastly. "Hello, are you Naomi Johnson?"

"Yes, that's me," she said.

"Cigarette?" Keith asked her, offering her one of his own.

She looked at it. "Yes, I know."

Keith blanched. This time Frank shrugged. "Well," Frank said, "Would you like any refreshments? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, thank you," she said.

"Are you sure?" asked Frank, offering her a mini-buffet that an officer rolled over to the desk. "We've got a little of everything here."

She glanced at the buffet. "No, thanks," she said politely.

"So, Naomi," asked Sonny kindly, "What can you tell us about this alleged murder at the bridge?"

"It wasn't just an alleged murder," she said, "I was sure that when I saw that big man pushing the car into the ravine, he was trying to kill someone, especially when I heard the yells and screams."

"Do you have any idea who that big guy was, or what his getaway car looked like?" asked Keith.

"No, I'm afraid not," said the woman tearfully, "It was too dark for me to see anything."

"Are you sure, Naomi?" said Frank. "You've got to know something, because if you tell us, we can put these hoodlums behind bars for good."

Naomi looked distressed. "I'm sorry, I just can't say anything."

"But we can't let these scum infest our city," said Frank, "We'll have a rat-infested, sewage-flooded, festering old boil for a town, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

Keith coughed in disgust. A detective at a nearby desk complained, "Geez, Frank, stop it! I'm trying to eat this tuna fish sandwich here!" As usual, Frank took no notice of his surroundings. Sonny rolled his eyes.

"Well, all right," said Naomi, "There is a little I can tell you. I was telling the truth when I said that I didn't get a good look at the guy who pushed the car into the river, but I saw a few details about the car. It was a classical Cadillac, not late model, I don't think, and I saw its license number when it passed my house. It was AC1234. As for the color, it was hard to tell in the darkness, but under the streetlights, it looked a little like it was black or dark blue. It was very new-looking, too, like its owner took very good care of it."

"Thank you very much, Naomi," said Sonny, "One more thing. You may or may not be aware that the victim's name was Dario Tomasso. Have you ever heard of him?"

"Vaguely," she replied, "By reputation only, I think. He was a card sharp, but rumor has it he wasn't a very good one, and he was something of a drinker, as well. I don't know much other than that about him."

"Thanks, Naomi," said Frank, "It's a small start, but it's a good beginning, and that's always better than nothing to go on."

He, Sonny, and Keith walked over to Ed. "Well, Ed," said Frank, "She says that the car was a fancy, classical Cadillac, license number AC1234, and either black or dark blue. She's also heard of Dario Tomasso, but doesn't know much beyond what we already know about him."

"Excuse me, Captain," said a voice from high above. Sonny and Keith looked up and saw an imposingly tall man standing over them, who looked to be about seven feet high. "Here's the file on Dario Tomasso you wanted."

Ed said, "Ah, yes, thank you, Al. Oh, and Al, shave that long beard off, will you? You look like a redneck!"

"Sorry, Captain," said Al, "I was just trying something else different." He walked away. Sonny, Keith, and Frank stared at Al's beard as he left.

"Well, here's Tomasso's arrest record," Ed said as he read the file, "In 1981, he was arrested in a casino in Las Vegas for underage gambling. He was eighteen at the time; he told the police that he thought age eighteen was the age when he reached full adulthood, and so could gamble legally in Vegas. Then, starting after he turned twenty-one, he was in and out of jail frequently for illegal sports betting, playing in underground casinos, and even dog fights."

"Who won the dog fight, the dog or Dario?" asked Frank. The boys from Lytton blanched again at Frank's apparent insensitivity.

"The dogs were doing the fighting, Frank," said Ed, "Dario was one of the bettors."

"Oh," said Frank, nodding.

"Apparently, Dario was a model prisoner during his time in prison," said Ed, showing off a black-and-white photo of Dario in a prison uniform doing a pose for the camera.

"Hmm interesting," said Frank.

"And what do you know about this Alphonse Capriccio?" asked Keith.

"He's a very smooth man, but very abrasive, too, when people don't respect him," said Ed. "I wonder if he may have been behind this murder. Maybe Dario got a bit extra clumsy with his gambling and perturbed Capriccio a little too far, and Capriccio and his boys decided to make him pay for it with his life."

"So, what do we do now?" inquired Sonny.

"Well, the action for this illegal gambling seems to be taking place at Alphonse's Art," said Frank. "I think some of us should pay a visit to this club and see what it's like. Maybe one of us can even get into the alleged back room and play a little Poker with the big boys, and get us on the inside of the operation."

"I'd be willing to do that, if necessary," said Sonny, "Back home in Lytton, I sometimes play private Poker with some officers from first shift at one of our homes. It's a hobby, not a business."

"That sounds good," said Frank, "I've played a lot of Poker, too. Maybe I could help you out in the games, clandestinely, of course."

"All right, then," said Ed, "This is what I have in mind. Frank and Sonny, you guys will go to the club's cocktail lounge and lay some heavy money on the contact man or woman to convince them to let you play. Keith and I will disguise ourselves as businessmen looking for spots to help get our clients, you boys, into the games, by finding the contact person, and Officer Norberg, whom I'll introduce Sonny and Keith to in a moment, will serve as a disguised backup officer should things get out of hand. He'll be sure to help you escape a critical situation, if one comes up."

"Sounds good to me," said Keith, puffing on his next cigarette.

"You certainly come up with these plans pretty quickly, Captain," said Sonny.

Ed smiled. "Well, it comes from years in the police force. Captains who work in a plainclothes unit always have to be ready with a plan for the next undercover operation."

"And when do we start part one of this operation, Ed?" asked Frank.

"Tonight, at 7:00 PM, Frank," said Ed.

"Good," said Frank, "It'll sure feel good to be out there again, with a deck of cards and a little Poker skill, with a concealed gun in my holster, to be a man!"

"Yes, of course, Frank," said Ed, who looked almost as surprised by Frank's macho attitude as Sonny and Keith were. He leaned down and said, "I want Ms. Naomi Johnson returned to her home now, safe and sound. She's done enough for us for now."

"Yes, Captain," said a uniformed officer who also happened to be a dwarf, who proceeded to obey the order. Sonny and Keith wondered how an officer that short could be in Police Squad, and how he could be expected to drive Naomi home.


End file.
